


When Worlds Collide

by Feinth



Category: Doctor Who, Sherlock (TV), Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-05
Updated: 2013-12-23
Packaged: 2017-12-31 14:34:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1032807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Feinth/pseuds/Feinth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>SuperWhoLock - When disaster strikes in Toronto there is only a small band of people who can save humanity and for one case only three worlds will collide. Demons, aliens, a simple case? Who knows, only Sherlock, the Winchesters and the Doctor's companions will be able to solve it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bad Tidings

Chapter 1

"Sherlock"

"Not now John, I'm busy!"

"Sherlock please, it's important"

"So's this, what makes you any more important than this guy"

"Because he's dead. And because it's mrs hudson."

"What? What's happened?"

"No idea, she's just sat there with her hands wrapped around the phone, crying, asking for you. Please sherlock"

Without another word, Sherlock stood and left the morgue. Standing there, John sighed, then hurried after him.

Hailing a taxi, was, as always, no difficulty. It amazed John how Sherlock could find an empty taxi, within 30 seconds of waiting. Climbing in, Sherlock sat down, perched on the edge of the seat. His fingers were steepled, pressed to his lips, and his expression was more worried than John had ever seen it. He followed him into the cab, giving their address, and they set off.

Arriving back at the flat, Sherlock stopped for a minute taking in the scene before him, before rushing forward to wrap Mrs Hudson in his arms briefly. Pulling away, he looked her in the eyes.

"Where?" He asked.

"Toronto" she replied. "I know you don't do foreign ones, but sherlock, he's... He's..."

"Your son, I know"

Turning away from her, he walked past John to the stairs.

"Pack enough for a couple of days, we'll get more clothes while we're out there"

"Out where?"

"Toronto of course, weren't you listening?!"

"But why?"

"Isn't it obvious?"

"How many times do I have to tell you sherlock, no it isn't, which is why it is so annoying when you act as if it is!"

"Properly look John. Letter by the phone, post marked canada, arrived recently. Phone number on the letter shows that Mrs Hudson made the call, not the other way around. The only person that she would be willing to make a phone call to at that expense is her son. By the way she is holding the phone, he didn't answer. She's crying, so he's in trouble, probably missing. Must be seriously so, as he wrote to her to tell her something, possibly the latest case he's found, and is worried for his mother. Okay? Now go pack, we leave at three!"

"Hang on, case? Is he like you then?"

"Of course not, I'm unique. He goes hunting for demons and things. Complete idiot, but he's mrs hudson's son, so we'll go"

"So what's he called?"

"John. He took his mother's maiden name though, rather than associate with his father. It's why he moved out there in the first place."

"Which is?"

"Winchester. John Winchester"

"Doctor, it's for you" River called over the noise of the Tardis.

"What is?"

"The phone. They're asking for you"

"Tell them no. I do not want double glazing, car insurance or an easy way to consolidate my mortgage payments!"

"Sweetie, they say it's a situation of world security, and you're their last hope"

"And I say no, I'm not going to be at the beck and call of humanity any more!"

A short pause then

"How did they even get this number?! I changed it this morning to stop the flood of whining calls and people trying to sell me insurance! Give it here"

"Hello, who are you and how the hell did you get this number?! No, you can't be, she's long gone. I don't believe you. Yes you sound like her, but it's not possible, not any more... You insist, well, answer me this then. Where was the first place I took you, after meeting you?... Oh, it is you, I'm listening, with all my soul" A long pause then "goodbye"

Walking to the console, the doctor reached for the screen turned it to face him, and paused, before a smile lit up his face, and he grinned "Toronto here we come!"

Holding on tight, River turned to look at him.

"Who was it? It must have been something and someone very special for you to accept this"

" Well, a potential tear in the space-time continuum, aliens all over the place, and a phone call from rose tyler. I could never say no!"

"Dean. I think I've found something."

"It's not like last time is it? Where we went all the way across the states to exorcise an escaped lion?!"

"Look it was a mistake anyone could've made. And anyway, this one's in dad's journal"

"In his journal? But there's been nothing useful in there for ages now! What is it?"

" I don't know? All it says is an address in Toronto and a date"

"Something to go on, really? Probably just an appointment dad wrote down there a while ago"

"I don't think so. It's not his handwriting. And the date is this tuesday."

"What?!"

"See. Worth investigating, even if it's just cos dad might be there."

" From here to Toronto, in 2 days. I dunno, it's a long way to go. And dad did say not to go looking for him."

"Look dean, I've got to go, I just feel like I need to go and find out why it's in here. And the address, there's a picture of it in here, and I dreamt about it last night. There's got to be some sort of connection. Please Dean"

"Okay, okay. But if there's nothing there, we move straight on okay."

"Fine. There will be though dean, I know it..."

Back and forth swayed the pocket watch, like a pendulum:

Left; and right.

Left; and right.

It calmed her, and allowed her to relax back in the couch.

Left; and right

Left; and right

Time seemed to slow, as she lost all focus on anything else, just the slowly swinging watch and chain...

Left...

And right...

Back...

And forth...

Slower, and slower. Slower and slower. Deeper and deeper into her subconscious she sank. Deeper and deeper.

Slower and slower

Left...

... And right...

...Left...

... And right...

...Left...

... And rig

The door slammed open with a bang, startling her from the depths of her mind. Looking across, she saw the same startled and confused expression on her psychiatrist's face, dissolving quickly to an expression of anger.

"This is a private session, arranged by request by your commander. She left express instructions not to be disturbed. WHAT do you want?!"

"I'm sorry ma'am, I wouldn't have come otherwise, but it's a code red. Alert from the FBI, large amount of alien technology, along with a lot of unknown, near Toronto, Canada..."

Martha Jones sighed, and stood up from the couch. Looking back at her psychiatrist, she felt a niggling in the back of her mind, of a memory, not quite formed, linked to just then. Pushing the thought away, she accompanied the soldier out of the office, and down the corridor.


	2. Chapter 2

Why did they have to arrive quite so early to the airport? Couldn't Mycroft have organised a slightly later flight? Looking across, Sherlock noticed how relaxed John seemed with the whole scenario. At least he'd not be having to make this flight alone. A nervous twinge tightened in his stomach, making him wince. He no longer liked flying, not since his fall. It had been so terrifying back then, perched on the rooftop edge. What if it didn't work, and he plummeted to his death, leaving a real body to bury. Even worse, what if it wasn't convincing, and those he'd loved had died because of him. He relived it too often, and heights now filled him with that same terror, that fear of falling, of death. Being here so early was not going to help, he knew, as the early morning was the worst time for his worries to surface. They would build up as a feeling of abject horror in his mind, leaving him unable to cope. Why oh why had he agreed to come off the heroin, now of all times? It could have calmed him a little at least.

Looking across at Sherlock, John began to wonder if everything was alright. Sherlock was so quiet, and that was beginning to worry him. They were on their way to a case, and Sherlock always talked about his cases. Admittedly, it was often to prove how little John knew, but he would always discuss it. Shrugging, John pushed his worries aside. After the fall, they had promised no secrets, so Sherlock would tell him if there was a problem.

They walked past the queues, straight to the front check-in desk, accompanied by their police escort. Sherlock had arranged this with Mycroft, and so they were on an express flight, and would go through security much faster than anyone else. They had been collected from their flat, and would be collected from the airport too, and taken straight to their hotel. Sherlock claimed it was for speed, but John knew that there was also a fear that Moriarty was behind this. His body had not been found on the hospital roof top, and Sherlock feared that he had faked his death too.

"Sir, can I see your passport please?" A soft voice brought him back from his pondering. Apologising, he handed it over, dropped his luggage on the belt, took his passport and boarding card and they were off again. John glanced over at Sherlock again and saw he was a little tense; getting worse as they passed through security. They were with the government, so were allowed to take what they wanted on board. John reached out and took Sherlock's hand, giving it a quick squeeze. Sherlock relaxed slightly, squeezing it back.

Martha Jones climbed the steps of the small aircraft, noticing how quiet the airport seemed for once. They'd been given a special dispensation, and all other air traffic had been put on hold while they left for America. Not only had the situation been Code Red, but it required her help out there. It was much worse than she feared, the American government had been contacted by Rose Tyler, meaning a potential tear in the fabric of the world, and she was the only person they could contact who had experience with this thing. Also, she knew Rose, and so would be able to check if it actually was her. Her biggest fear was that it would be Rose, and that Martha would be unable to do anything to help. Sighing, she climbed in, and sat down next to Jenny. Martha had persuaded her psychiatrist to come, because she feared that this would make her nightmares worse. Always they lurked, just out of reach, with all she could remember on awaking being a scarecrow's face, twisted into an evil smile, and something to do with mirrors. Jenny smiled as she sat down, a smile that had been so familiar from the beginning, and so comforting. Martha smiled back, and relaxed. She had to relax now, there would be no time later. Sitting back, she waited for take-off.

Five minutes passed. Ten. Martha began to wonder what was going on. Why hadn't they left yet? Her squadron was all here, along with the extras she'd organised to come too. Why weren't they leaving? Standing up out of her chair, she winced as the seat belt cut into her hips. Taking it off, she made her way down the plane, before sticking her head into the cockpit.

"Mickey. Why haven't we taken off yet. I have a meeting with the Canadian Prime Minister that I might not miss if we leave now." There was a particular emphasis on the 'now'. "Sorry Martha, but orders from above. There's two more passengers we're waiting for, asked to come by the queen herself, in order to help us."

Martha noticed the annoyed glance that shot across from the co-pilot, as Mickey used her name. He was the only one to get away with it, but then she did love him.

"Well, tell them to hurry up"

Sitting back down, she twisted around in her seat to watch the aircraft doors, wondering who could have been added to their team, and what help they could possibly be.

Another 5 minutes passed, and a heavy silence had fallen over the plane, when the door finally opened. Through it climbed a familiar face, which she had never expected to see again. Sherlock Holmes. The famous consulting detective, made more famous for his dramatic suicide. Evidently this was apparently untrue, as he was now standing large as life in the doorway. A hand placed itself in his, as another man climbed in behind him. John Watson looked younger than he had when she had last seen him, but that was always true when people were made happy again. He had been devastated by his friend's death. She wondered how they had managed to get such special dispensation from the queen, but decided speculation was useless. She'd ask them once they landed. Watching them as they took the last two seats at the back of the aeroplane, and buckled up, she thanked god that they could finally be off. Turning around Martha closed her eyes, and drifted off to sleep.

Looking around as they climbed in, John realised why they had been able to come through so quickly. This was a military aircraft, and a high-class one by the looks of it. The urge to salute as he entered was very strong. Everyone on this plane was his superior. No, everyone would have been his superior, was he still a soldier. Instead of saluting therefore, he took Sherlock's hand, reassuring him, before they took their seats. Once they were seated, and ready to go, the woman at the front finally turned around, and settled back into her seat. She'd been watching them impatiently since they arrived. Oh well, at least they could now get going.

Turning onto the runway, the plane accelerated rapidly, taking them to their latest case, and a new adventure on foreign soil.


	3. Chapter 3

Sitting straight upright, Sam awoke in a cold sweat, shivering, even in the heat of the room. He had had the dream again, 'cept it wasn't a dream really, more a premonition, he was sure of it. As for the past few nights, it had begun in the same way...

It was a relatively large hotel, based in central Toronto. Standing outside, he looked up at the sign, which told him it's name: 'The Royal York Hotel'. Around him the busy streets continued about their business; ordinary people leading ordinary lives. Yet something was wrong here, he could feel it. People seemed to almost sub-conciously give the hotel a wide berth as they passed it by, hurrying on their ways to appointments, lunches, vital shopping trips. And no-one went in. Everytime he saw it, there were different people, new

faces in amongst the everyday commuters, yet no-one ever entered the hotel, or even glanced at it. It was almost as if it didn't exist. Which was frankly absurd, considering it's size. Stepping forward, he stepped through the busy crowds, and arrived at the doors. Another pace, and the bustle and noise of life outside was lost, removed by the glass doors through which he had just come. Inside, it was as empty as could be; no concierges, no customers, nobody. No-one, except him. Walking forward - no longer entirely sure if he was in control of his own body- Sam moved past the empty reception desk, and towards the staircase. Pausing at the bottom of the staircase, he looked up at the chandelier, hanging so high above him. Then he is off again, propelled by some unseen force along the red carpet that lines the middle of the staicase. Now he is certain that he is not in control. Up twenty eight flights of stairs, past the beehives on the thirteenth floor terrace, past every single floor, til he finally reached the top. There in front of him stands a pair of doors, that slowly open. Normally, at this point, he would wake up, and just have a mild sense of worry about the hotel. Tonight however, was different. The doors had opened, and he had been drawn towards them, his feet pacing the spotless red carpet of their own accord. He had entered the room, noticing at first a smell that assaulted the senses. It was so thick he could taste it. It smelt almost of Ichor, but there was something else there too, something unrecognised. Before he could wonder too much about it though, he had been pulled further in. An awful sight met his eyes. The room had been stripped bare, with only one feature remaining. In the centre of the room sat a large table, and strapped to it was their dad. He was bleeding slowly from two incisions in each arm. Bowls beneath the table collected the blood, for God knows what ungodly purpose. A harsh, almost electronic voice whispered sarcastically out of the darkness...

"Hurry Sam, or you may just get here too late to save your precious father. Hurry! Hurry!"

Sam had awoken at this point, a deep fear settling itself into his bones. Questions raced through his head, like snowflakes falling, to settle heavily on his mind. What was the monster in that room, it sounded like nothing he'd ever heard, and definitely wasn't human? How had it captured dad? How did it know his name? More and more they came, the questions, the fears, the horror, pieces of the dream flooding into his head, burying him deeper and deeper-

"Please stop"

He wasn't even aware that he had spoken, until the heaviness on his mind began to lift slightly.

"Go away"

Everything faded back into his mind, forced there by the ferocity of his growl. Yet it didn't leave him completely. A sense of foreboding still lingered, taunting him. The only way to get rid of it, to allay his fears, to answer the questions, was to go to that hotel, and confront the monster within. Right now, that was what he feared the most.

Looking to his left, he saw that Dean was awake, perched on the edge of his bed.

"Are you okay Sammy? What is it?" A look of concern filled Dean's eyes. It was the dream again, he was sure of it. This time was different though, Sam didn't normally wake up looking so terrified and shouting. He must have seen something more. After a brief pause, where Sam said nothing, staring only into his own hands, Dean reached out, and grasped his shoulder.

"It's okay Sammy, we're here. You're safe here" He gestured at the safehouse, the last one on only american soil before Toronto. It had been an old ranch, that had fallen into disuse once the owners had died. Their dad had done it up, when he was much younger, and it was now quite cozy, on the inside at least. The ramshackle exterior that remained belied the comfy beds, warm fire, and full gun racks that hid inside.

"Go back to sleep, it's too early to be getting up yet"

With a drowsy nod, Sam lay back down, closed his eyes, and in a matter of minutes was snoring softly. Dean sat and watched him. If ever Sam had needed protecting it was now. He was so unstable, scared of what lay ahead, yet determined to soldier on. And it scared Dean to see how fully Sam was throwing himself into this. Getting up, Dean made his way into the next room, to start organising their gear. He knew he was not going to sleep tonight, not when he was so worried about his baby brother. Crossing his legs, he sat by the fireplace, the still warm embers glowing slightly. Reaching forward, he collected up the guns, and began checking they were loaded, all the time listening out for any noises from the room next door.

An hour later, with all guns loaded, Dean sat back against the mantel's supports, the brickwork of the fireplace cooling, yet still ever so slightly warm. Leaning his head back, Dean relaxed, the gun in his hand resting in his lap as he blinked slowly. And again, slower. And a third time his eyes closed, though this time they did not open. The gun lay limply in his hand, as Dean Winchester fell asleep.


	4. Chapter 4

River looked across at the Doctor, a sad smile on her lips. His body language was so different from how it had been lately. He was smiling again, something he hadn't done in a while, and the bounce was back in his step. After losing Donna, and having to send all those he valued away, he had been lost for a while; in such deep despair that he had ran away, fleeing to the darkest recesses of his mind. That was when she had found him, drifting alone in space, on a course to nowhere, wallowing in self pity and loathing. Now however, he was back on track, willing to do anything for the woman he loved.

Yes, she told herself, it was love. The disbelief, the hope, the pleasure she saw in him, all caused by Rose Tyler. It was love, and she had to stand by and watch the love of her life be with someone else. So what if he wasn't HER doctor, he was still the Timelord that would become the man she knew so well, and it pained her to see him so deeply in love with someone else.

Pushing all these thoughts aside, she set about helping the doctor with preparing the TARDIS for flight. Having been drifting in space for so long, the TARDIS was a bit slow to respond, obviously grumpy with her misuse. A bitter smile crossed River's face as she realised that this was one more love of the Doctor's that he had abandoned in order to please himself. He was so selfish sometimes, without thinking about his actions. Now it was taking them precious time to bring her round, when they could be helping to save humanity.

The Doctor hummed softly to himself as he worked on the TARDIS, talking to her in between songs.

"It's her, it's really her" he murmured. "After all this time, she hasn't forgotten me in her new life. She still needs me, her Doctor."

A grin split across his face, and he ran his fingers softly along the control panel of the TARDIS. Soon they would be ready to go. He would see Rose Tyler again, and everything would be alright again. Together, they were unstoppable, and no monster would stand in their way, or prevent them from being together. He was the oncoming storm, and he would save his friend.

Looking up, he saw River leaning on the control panel, watching him, her expression intense. Once again, as he had done so often since she arrived on board, he wondered who she really was. She had known all about him in the library, and he had watched her die, unable to help, perhaps even a little unwilling to even try. She scared him a little, with what she knew of him, and he didn't like not knowing. Yet the woman before him was different. She didn't know as much, she was younger, like he was older. He didn't really know her, yet she had arrived out here to help him, had sorted the TARDIS out, and tried to make him come out of himself. Why would she be like this? She claimed to know a future version of him, yet there was always a hint of guilt in her eyes when she said this. And now she was glaring at him across the panel, exasperation, and just a little bit of sorrow in her eyes.

"Ready to go?" He asked, a smile lighting his face.

"She's as ready as she'll ever be, sweetie" River replied. The Doctor grimaced, her insistence to call him that was beginning to grate. Reaching across, he fiddled with a variety of knobs, levers and dials, and prepared to get going.

"Allons-y" He cried, flipping the final lever, and hurtling them towards Toronto.

Across the Universe, in a hotel room in Toronto, Rose Tyler looked at herself in the mirror. Her blonde hair was knotted, from days of having not been brushed, and by her twisting her fingers in it constantly. Her eyes were red rimmed, from the tears that fell rapidly down her cheeks. She had been here a week now, trapped in this room by the monster that now looked at her from across the room. She didn't know what it was, but it terrified her, what it could do to her. Every time she looked at it, she saw another person she had loved and failed. They had taken her human Doctor away, and replaced him with this hideous thing that tormented her day and night. Glancing quickly in the mirror, she saw Mickey staring at her, an expression of anguish on his face. Mickey seemed to be her tormentor's favourite shape, and she knew why. She had abandoned him, left with the Doctor, and destroyed his heart. Though she didn't love him like she loved the Doctor, she still felt guilty for how he had been left behind, and that tore her apart now. The first time he had appeared, she had honestly thought it was him, come to rescue her, and yet he had been so cold, so vicious when she tried to leave. She had had bruises on her wrists for a couple of days afterwards, and the one on her face hadn't entirely faded still.

Anyway, she reconciled herself, she had done her part. Soon the Doctor would be here, and she could return to her universe, with her Doctor, and forget all of this. How she needed to be in his arms right now, having him hold her close and reassuring her that everything was going to be okay. Looking in the mirror behind her, she saw her captor's face, and her resolve hardened. Was this who she really was? A girl who was willing to stand by and let those she loved die, just so she could b happy? No, she told herself, she wasn't. Her father hadn't been, and nor would she. She would do the rescuing this time, the Doctor needn't come. Everything was going to be okay.

Grabbing the hairbrush, she yanked it through her hair a couple of times, before the lights suddenly went out, and the building shook. She had decided too late, he was here now, and he would die. Shaking, she collapsed to the ground, tears falling once again from her eyes.

The noise when the Doctor left the handbrake on always irritated River, but it was followed by a noise this time that filled her with fear. A loud crash, and then the TARDIS began screaming. A constant whine filled the air, as the TARDIS spun dangerously out of control. She looked up, seeing the Doctor's face concentrating on trying to keep her under control. River knew she should go and help, but she couldn't. This noise; the TARDIS had only ever made it once before in River's recollection, and she feared that the end would be the same. That was the day she had met the Doctor for the first time, and the day she had watched him die. She couldn't cope with seeing that again, having the risk that her Doctor would never exist, because he died too soon.

Concentrating herself, she forced the thought quickly out of her mind, lunging forwards and tackling the Doctor.

"There's nothing you can do!" She yelled over the racket the TARDIS was making, "The more you try to fix her, the worse it will get!"

Sure enough, as if to back her up, the noise quietened, leaving just a groaning, creaking sound, as if the entire ship was about to collapse. Scrambling upright, River rushed for the door, knowing they had to get out of there, before the TARDIS trapped them inside. Yanking the door open, she saw a bleak sight. They were on an island, in the middle of a lake, surrounded by some form of force field, enhanced with runes. This was clearly not Toronto. It had all the looks of a trap.

How could she have been so stupid? When she had seen that the Doctor was no longer so depressed and withdrawn, she had leapt at the chance to keep him that way. She hadn't thought about the risks at all. Foolish River, and now they were both trapped, unable to help Rose. If it was even Rose at all.

About to turn round and see where the Doctor was, she caught a glimpse of blue out of the corner of her eye, and turned back. There, appearing before her was something totally impossible. Before she could even begin to come to terms with what was going on before her, another appeared. And another. And yet another.

"Doctor, you need to come and see this!"


	5. Chapter 5

Rain streaked the windows. Ever since they had left British airspace it had been raining. The clouds were so thick, that the plane had been forced to fly low over the Atlantic. It was a first for Sherlock, to be able to see the ground below as he flew, and it made his stomach lurch every time he looked out of the window. Something felt wrong, and this unnatural flight only strengthened that feeling. Turning his eyes away from the window, Sherlock looked around the aircraft. The soldiers were clearly high ranking, and yet their uniform was not one he immediately recognised. Nor was the aircraft. It looked as normal as any military plane, but there were small things that stood out, so out of place. The lights were strips along the floor, yet the light they gave out was not any natural light he'd ever seen. It pulsed slightly, flickers of colour darting along it. It was almost organic. Looking across at John, he watched as he slept. So peaceful, so calm. Smiling to himself, he wondered how John could turn his mind off at a time like this, and sleep. Sherlock certainly couldn't. There was so much that didn't fit together, and his mind wouldn't rest until he could work out what it was. Steepling his fingers under his chin, he visited his mind palace, taking advantage of the peace and quiet of the journey.

Unable to sleep, Martha sat, reading the brief for this mission. For once, that word perfectly described the information she'd been given. Brief. There was nothing much to go on, only a code red alert from the American government. The Canadians had asked them for help, and yet they had been unable to, and so she had been called in. According to British Intelligence, there had been an increase in alien sightings, and bizarre experiences occurring in and around Toronto, but nothing she had considered worrying. Until that Code Red had arrived. Now, she was concerned. Closing the file, she put it to one side. Over the past few hours, she had read it so often she knew the information off by heart. There was nothing she could do now until they arrived in Toronto.

A tingle travelled up her spine. She was being watched. Turning around, she found herself staring directly into the eyes of Sherlock Holmes. And yet, he wasn't there. There was no expression in his eyes, they had gone dark, with just a spark of life in the very centre of his pupils, but even that was focused inwards. It was like he had disappeared inside his own head. Well, if that was how he dealt with these things, and processed information, then she couldn't fault him. She wished she could pull herself away from everything else and focus just on her work. It was just a little creepy that it was her he was staring at. Getting up from her seat, she once more caught herself on the strap. She was going to have some awful bruises if she wasn't careful. Opening the door to the cockpit, she slipped inside before starting up a conversation, careful not to wake up anyone.

"Why are they here?" she sighed exasperatedly at Mickey. "It's not like they have any experience with this kind of thing"

"Erm... They are consulting detectives?"

"That may be, but they don't do aliens, do they? They always have a human killer, or thief, or fraudster. Never anything like we do. So how do they seriously think they can help?!" Her voice was rising now, with frustration. It was like she couldn't be trusted in the eyes of her superiors. She led Unit now, but the government kept on taking away her cases. How was she supposed to help mankind, when they wouldn't let her?

Looking across at Mickey, a smile of grim determination lit her face. She could face this demon later. For now, she had a case to solve, aliens to fight, and a world to save.

The whine of the landing gear lowering as they came in to land awoke John. For a moment, he was back in Afghanistan, being flown to his next post. The cries of his fellow soldiers filled his ears, and he was up on his feet and ready to go before he remembered where he was. This was not the heat and sand of his war. It was a grey sky, above the grey earth, on the other side of the world. Looking around, he saw how alert the other soldiers were too, admiring their training. Just then, the doors to the cockpit opened, and the woman, who was clearly in command walked through.

"We will be landing shortly" she announced. "You will assemble outside the airport, where the president's cars will meet us. This includes you two, so wake your friend"

This last bit was directed at John. Looking back, he noticed Sherlock hadn't moved, his arched fingers supporting his head, staring deep into the distance. Reaching over, John touched his shoulder, prepared for a momentary outburst. Sherlock never liked being disturbed in the middle of his thoughts.

Instead, a smile lit up his face, and an exclamation escaped his lips.

"Unit! Of course. I've been so stupid."

Looking mildly puzzled John dropped his voice.

"Unit?"

"Yes, the government's special section of the armed forces, aimed entirely at fighting aliens, and keeping them from our knowledge. It's the only explanation for it. The unknown uniforms, the modified aircraft, the woman in charge, it all makes sense now."

"What do you mean, a woman in charge?" Martha challenged, indignant at this casual disregard for her.

"From what I've heard, Unit has had the largest number of female officers of any branch of the army. So you must of course be Martha Jones, head of Unit, and ex-companion to the Doctor. But of course you are. Everyone else here is worried, not enough to show it of course, but worried nonetheless! Unlike you, they're not entirely used to aliens, and saving the world. Yet the determination in your eyes says it's just another day, of the same old. You are unique"

A pause then

"Except you're not. You seem used to this as well..." This last comment directed at Jenny, hanging, as if expecting an answer. "Who are you...?"

"Me? I'm no-one, I've just had some experience with Unit before, that's all"

"Are you quite finished playing detective now?" Martha asked, her impatience forcing its way through.

"Of course. Do lead on" A frown crossed his face however, as they were led out of the plane. Whoever the girl was, she believed she was no-one. And yet when she had answered, her hand had been fiddling with a pocket watch, undercutting her story. Curious, he sank back into his thoughts.

Stopping outside the airport, Martha directed her soldiers into the waiting trucks. As the last ones got in, she opened the door of the waiting car, letting Sherlock enter, before blocking John's way.

"I do not want you two getting in my way, is that understood? I know how to deal with aliens, you don't. If I need help, I will ask, and I am certain it would not be from you."

"Yes Ma'am" John saluted crisply, the sharpness of his voice making him briefly forget he was no longer a soldier.

"Good. Now, after you" Climbing into the car, they set off, keen to discover what lay ahead.


	6. Chapter 6

Packing the guns away into the back of the car, Dean paused. He'd been feeling uneasy all morning, and now he was sure something was wrong. He was being watched. Picking up a machete from where he lay, he spun on the spot, landing crouched and ready to fight. In the bushes opposite him, a large fox flicked it's tail, then turned and walked away. A sigh slipped through Dean's lips. He was just imagining things. Sam's dream last night had shaken him. When this mist cleared away, he would be fine. Dropping the machete and the last gun in the back of the car, he turned back to the house to find Sam. From the bushes, a large fox watched him go.

Driving hard, they arrived at the border at lunch time. As they crossed the border, Dean was startled when Sam yelled, as if in intense agony.

"Sammy, what's wrong?"

"The dream again, but this time, I could feel dad's pain, he's hurting so bad."

With a frown, Dean pulled into the diner that straddled the border. A sign identified it as Big Al's Diner.

"What're you doing?!" Sam snapped. "We can't afford to stop. It's not that far to Toronto, and dad needs our help. We have to keep going!"

"No." Dean's voice was calm but forceful. "If you're feeling dad's pain, it's because someone, or something, wants you to be. They want us to rush in and save him. That's not how dad brought us up. We need to stop and consider what we're going to do, and we may as well do it now, before Toronto. Bring your laptop"

Opening the door, Dean started to climb out of the car. From under the car alongside, a fox shot out, teeth bared, heading straight for Dean. As it dove at him, he brought his foot out sharply, kicking it squarely in the face, noticing it's eyes as he did so. They were not the normal eyes of a fox. These were totally black. The worry from the early morning returned.

"Someone definitely doesn't want us stopping." Dean remarked, climbing out of the car, and having to duck to avoid a pair of pigeons who dove through the air. Looking around, he noticed some more birds winging their way towards them, and set off at a run into the diner, closely followed by his brother.

Looking back through the door, Dean watched as a flock of birds settled on the Impala, hiding it under a mass of feathers. It appeared that this demon, for he was now certain that it was a demon, knew how to get to both of them. He wanted to chase them all away, and drive away. Fighting the urge to leave, he followed Sam towards a table.

"No news"

Dean looked up from his breakfast. Sam had finally finished searching the web, and pushed his laptop screen down.

"What, nothing strange at all in the surrounding area?"

"More like no news at all. Nothing from that area. It's like it's become a black hole for news; information; anything! Something's going on!"

Dean paused, forkful of pie halfway to his mouth.

"We really need to start working on a plan then. Once we enter Toronto, we won't be able to get out 'til we've saved dad, and killed this creature. And it may well be that we have a lot of people to save too"

"And all those animals" Sam gestured out of the window "We can't have demonically possessed birds flying around forever!"

Looking out of the window, Dean rose from his seat. A slight rise hid the diner from the busy road beyond, and sat along it was the largest collection of wild animals he'd ever seen. Foxes, wild dogs, and even a wolf sat on the crest of the rise, staring at them, as if willing them to move. Looking to the Impala, he saw that the birds resting on it had changed. Instead of the smaller pigeons that had covered it earlier, vultures and eagles now perched on it. As he watched, almost as if they knew he was watching, two Golden Eagles leant forwards, scratching their beaks along the paintwork.

Unable to resist it any longer, Dean left the table at a run, charging out of the door to his car. He couldn't sit by and watch them damage her. Arriving at the car, he had to crouch as the birds took off circling over the diner. Standing, then looking down to assess the damage, he paused. Scratched on the bonnet was a word.

Hurry

Annoyed at how he was being played by their unknown enemy, he turned back towards the Diner, to return to Sam, only to discover his route blocked. Across the front of the diner, two or three thick, sat the animals from the crest of the rise. Just sitting there, almost as if he was not of interest. Yet a step forwards proved otherwise. Their shackles rose, and they started snarling, an angry noise, that echoed between the cars. With a sigh, Dean returned to the Impala to wait for Sam. They would have to plan as they went, it seemed their stop could not play out any longer.

Packing the guns away into the back of the car, Dean paused. He'd been feeling uneasy all morning, and now he was sure something was wrong. He was being watched. Picking up a machete from where he lay, he spun on the spot, landing crouched and ready to fight. In the bushes opposite him, a large fox flicked it's tail, then turned and walked away. A sigh slipped through Dean's lips. He was just imagining things. Sam's dream last night had shaken him. When this mist cleared away, he would be fine. Dropping the machete and the last gun in the back of the car, he turned back to the house to find Sam. From the bushes, a large fox watched him go.

Dean looked up from his breakfast. Sam had finally finished searching the web, and pushed his laptop screen down.

"What, nothing strange at all in the surrounding area?"

"More like no news at all. Nothing from that area. It's like it's become a black hole for news; information; anything! Something's going on!"

Dean paused, forkful of pie halfway to his mouth.

"We really need to start working on a plan then. Once we enter Toronto, we won't be able to get out 'til we've saved dad, and killed this creature. And it may well be that we have a lot of people to save too"

"And all those animals" Sam gestured out of the window "We can't have demonically possessed birds flying around forever!"

Looking out of the window, Dean rose from his seat. A slight rise hid the diner from the busy road beyond, and sat along it was the largest collection of wild animals he'd ever seen. Foxes, wild dogs, and even a wolf sat on the crest of the rise, staring at them, as if willing them to move. Looking to the Impala, he saw that the birds resting on it had changed. Instead of the smaller pigeons that had covered it earlier, vultures and eagles now perched on it. As he watched, almost as if they knew he was watching, two Golden Eagles leant forwards, scratching their beaks along the paintwork.

Unable to resist it any longer, Dean left the table at a run, charging out of the door to his car. He couldn't sit by and watch them damage her. Arriving at the car, he had to crouch as the birds took off circling over the diner. Standing, then looking down to assess the damage, he paused. Scratched on the bonnet was a word. Hurry. Annoyed at how he was being played by their "enemy", he turned back towards the Diner, to return to Sam, only to discover his route blocked. Across the front of the diner, two or three thick, sat the animals from the crest of the rise. Just sitting there, almost as if he was not of interest. Yet a step forwards proved otherwise. Their shackles rose, and they started snarling, an angry noise, that echoed between the cars. With a sigh, Dean returned to the Impala to wait for Sam. They would have to plan as they went, it seemed their stop could not play out any longer.

As Sam left the Diner, to return to Dean, the animals parted, only to reform behind him, forcing him to keep moving forwards. Then, almost as he was out of the animals, and at the Impala, he was stopped. A wolf, fairly small, yet still larger than any other animal there, clamped his jaws around Sam's leg. With a grunt, he looked down fearfully. The wolf was just sat there. Confused, Sam was just about to try to shake the wolf off, when he felt talons pierce his shirt and shoulder. Looking up suddenly, whipping his head back, he found himself staring into the eyes of two of the largest Golden Eagles he had ever seen. Except they weren't the eyes of Golden Eagles. These eyes were black, so black they seemed to draw you into their depths, trapping you forever.

Watching from the car, Dean saw the birds swoop down, and lift his brother away. Scrambling out of the car, he pulled his gun out of his jacket pocket, only to have his arm gain so much weight it was impossible to lift. Glaring at him from his arm was a small bear cub, also possessed, with it's legs wrapped around him. It had been hiding on top of the car, and leapt out at him when he had drawn the gun. Looking up at the sky again, he saw that the birds, and Sam, were now out of gunshot range. Punching the bear cub off his arm with a snarl, Dean climbed back into the Impala. He started the ignition, and accelerated out of the carpark, Highway to Hell blaring from the radio. Too true, Dean thought to himself, driving like a fury after the disappearing figure of his brother.

"Toronto here I come. And believe me, you had better be ready, 'cause now I'm really pissed off"

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	7. Chapter 7

"Not now River" The doctor called from the console. "I can't leave her yet, she's fading on me. I'm losing her! How can this be happening, it's like something's draining her"

"Yes Sweetie, I know! Now get here, and see this"

Sighing, the Doctor made his way from the console, slinging his coat around his narrow shoulders as he came to stand in the doorway. There before him was the most incredible, most impossible thing he had ever seen. About 30 yards from the TARDIS, a huge glowing ball of time energy had formed, robes of golden light wrapping round one another to form the orb. As they watched, the globe began to change shape, forming one so recognisable to them. The orb gained sides, a roof, a door, the ropes still writhing, flowing over one another, yet maintaining their overall shape. And then, the light on the top of this time-energy-TARDIS began to glow, brighter than anything else there, causing them to shade their eyes. 13 arcs of light left the brilliance of the time-energy, one of them alighting on the roof of the tardis, a sigh echoing amongst the TARDIS as some life was breathed back into it. Looking back to the golden TARDIS, the Doctor traced the paths of the other arcs of light. Each was alighting on another TARDIS, or more specifically, the same TARDIS from another point in time. And in front of each one stood a different regeneration from his past, and 2 he didn't recognise, who must be his future selves.

Suddenly, thirteen more arcs of light shone out from the time-energy, each alighting on another TARDIS. Before each of these stood another 13 Doctors, mirror images of his regenerations. Well, almost mirror images. The sixth regeneration had a more subdued coat, and his mirror... Well he was GINGER! He'd always wanted to be ginger, and now he was.

"Doesn't suit you sweetie"

"Sorry" the Doctor turned back to River.

"Being ginger, doesn't suit you, and it clashes horribly with your suit... Too 70's"

"I'll have you know, I look very dashing as a ginger" the Doctor returned, looking back to the parallel Doctors.

Another thirteen beams of light arced out, and another, and another, each alighting on a different set of TARDISes, each with their own set of Doctors.

Some were shorter than their counterparts, some taller, some fairer, some darker, some ginger... But they all looked like one of his regenerations. And each had their own companion.

"Sweetie"

"Hmmm?"

"How is this possible? There's so many incarnations of you, and yet there's only one of me"

"Don't be silly, there's got to be another one of you out there somewhere, you just haven't seen them yet"

"No Doctor, there's not. There's only one of each companion. It's almost as if two parallel companions couldn't be in the same place?"

"What? Yes, I suppose... No, no, no! Of course. Sometimes I am so slow. It's the TARDIS. She can't cross her own time stream, so she'll have brought through different companions for each Doctor, so she doesn't cross it."

"But the other ones, from parallel universes; they're not the same TARDIS are they?"

"Yes, they are. My TARDIS is always mine, regardless of where in time, space, or whichever universe I happen to be in. It's why she became drained when I entered Rose's parallel universe. Her time streams conflict, and the energy becomes one. That's why all of the TARDISes look

identical, and why there's the large time-energy TARDIS in the middle here. It then separates back out, and will return us to our own time stream, and universe shortly. That's what the arcs of light are. We should probably be getting back inside."

Turning around, the Doctor walked back the few steps to the TARDIS, placing his hand on the door to head back inside. Leaning on the door, he watched as his hand passed right through. Pulling it quickly back, he tried again, with the same result. Pushing his hand through the door fully, the Doctor followed it in. Passing smoothly through, he looked around, seeing not his usual interior, but a normal police box. Stumbling backwards, the Doctor bumped into River, who had come to put her hand on the TARDIS.

"What's going on sweetie?"

"She's not there. We were too late getting back here, and she's left without us. She shouldn't be able to fly without someone inside, but with so much of her time energy in one place, she was pushed away without us."

"So now we're trapped here?"

"Yep! Wherever here is... was."

"Was? Oh, I see. It's gone."

Looking around, they both took in the barren plain that now lay before them. They hadn't moved, and yet there were no longer any trees, no water, no colour. Just a grey scene before them that stretched off into the distance, filled with fading TARDISes. And then there were no more blue boxes, just a collection of Time Lords and humans, and the occasional alien face.

Looking about, the Doctor located his previous regeneration, and set off towards him. A collection of other Doctors also joined him as he arrived at his younger self, both past and present forms.

"What on Gallifrey is going on?!"

"Where are we?"

"Who's brought us here?"

"This can't be happening surely, all of us together?"

Frowning slightly, River's Doctor took a step back. They obviously hadn't been brought here of their own accord. No phone-call, no instructions, no plea for help. They had somehow been drawn here through another method.

"Confused dear?" River had appeared beside him.

"Can't you see we're busy? There's a serious discussion going on here"

"Sounds like an argument between lots of confused Time Lords. I'm here to help"

"Really?"

"Yes. Now, everyone here is confused about how they've got here. Except us. We followed a call from Rose, and got diverted here. So is it possible that whatever brought us here used the TARDIS's time energy to find the other Doctors throughout time, space, and all universes? And then drew them here. And now we're all stuck in this place, while they can go about their plans without our interference... ever."

"I suppose so, but why me?"

"Because they had a way to get to you. You were the only Doctor to find love, and true happiness, with a human, and be able to care for that human, as you had a human form as well. This faceless enemy of ours knew to exploit that."

"Rose!" Her name left his lips in a hurried breath of air. "Did you see her among the companions? Quickly River, is she here"

"I didn't see her, but there are hundreds of them, she could be anywhere, from any universe."

"No. She'd be here from ours, and she isn't with him... me... him!" He gestured at one of the arguing Doctors, a sterner man, in a leather jacket. "This isn't good, it means she's in danger, we have to save her."

"Look on the bright side sweetie. So many geniuses in one place. There's no way you can fail to save her, and save the world. You are the Doctor, after all. And you know what? So are they."

Turning back to the huddle of regenerations, the Doctor raised his voice over the top. "Quiet! I know how we got here, and what we need to do. Turning to the one River could only think of as leather jacket man now, he started speaking:

"Rose is in danger. Whoever brought us here has her, and used her to lure me..." He tailed off, as he realised that the silence wasn't because everyone had stopped speaking. Their mouths were still moving, yet he could hear nothing. And they were fading, the barren landscape beginning to show through each and everyone of them. The combined genius was dissipating, forms turning merely to shadows, as the Doctor and River were stuck, once more, alone.


End file.
